


In my head it's getting loud

by abunchoftookas



Series: Hold Your Heart [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares, Echo is struggling, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned nonsexual nudity, Not Beta Read, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, crosshair is soft, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abunchoftookas/pseuds/abunchoftookas
Summary: The pain Echo wakes up to is not nearly as bad as the feverish nightmares and memories suffocate threatening to suffocate him, but fortunately an unlikely source comes to his aid
Series: Hold Your Heart [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017046
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	In my head it's getting loud

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Josh Groban's song River
> 
> All grammer/spelling mistakes are mine

Echo awoke with a start. His heart hammered in his chest. He had already forgotten the screams in his dream, the red streaks across his vision, and the metallic taste flooding his senses. If he tried, he could feel the lines where Techno Union scientists cut into him, hacking into his body and rewiring his mind, but he didn’t want to remember. 

His throat was dry, but his limbs were too tired to move. Getting up would require moving his prosthetics which were already pinching his nerves as he laid there. He tried his best to be as still as possible, but any shift would send electric jolts up his hamstrings and through his back. Echo was laying on his stomach to keep the pressure off of his spine, but it didn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things. He still woke up every night in massive amounts of pain. 

He also didn’t want to wake the other batchers. He felt terrible every time. One night he got up to use the ‘fresher and the joints of his knees locked up, sending him face flat into the ground, unable to move. He had to call for Tech, and although everyone said they were understanding, they seemed peeved at being woken up. He spent the remainder of that night curled up in the pilot’s chair, feeling guilty and undeserving of sleeping in his bunk. 

Echo rolled his face back into his pillow shaking away the embarrassment of that memory. He closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep. 

He woke up an hour later. His back cramping, his neck stiff. Waves pounded across his skull. This wasn’t the worst pain he woke up to, but it was just enough to keep him in the limbo between awake and asleep. He hated this stage. With it came dreams crossing the threshold of reality, nearly verging on hallucinations. He tried to think of happier times, back on Kamino with the Domino Squad. He imagined Fives face. It still brought him just as much comfort and it did grief, but he needed to remember that stupid charismatic smile and the way he was so expressive through his eyebrows. His ridiculous expressions never ceased to make Echo laugh. 

Through the delusions and haze, Echo swore he could see Fives standing before him, leaning against the door. Fives walked over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before reciting a sappy pickup line he overheard at 79’s. Echo smiled at him, replying in a one way, imaginative conversation. Fives faded, promptly replaced by invasive needles and the eerie screech of drills. Echo knew it wasn’t real, but he couldn’t wake himself up. Tears of frustration welled in his eyes, leaving wet spots on his pillow. 

He choked down a dry swallow, his throat burning tight. Echo rolled over, welcoming the cool of his pillow. He was too hot. He kicked off his blanket, his prosthetics caught on the sheets, yanking on the plate at the bottom of his stump. A pain shot up his leg. Echo froze, clenching his jaw. He felt vulnerable, like someone,  _ or something,  _ was watching him. He wanted to pull his blanket back over him but was too terrified to move. Vaguely he could hear the scientist arguing over his naked body laying on a cold metal table, prepped for the next round of  _ enhancements _ . Hands were grabbing at him, barrages of blaster bolts flashed behind him, and Fives laid next to him, in his bunk on the Havoc Marauder, saying something he couldn’t quite hear. 

Echo whimpered. He just wanted the delirium to stop. His body was too warm and he was exhausted, he just wanted to sleep or wake up. He tried to think of someone coming for him, but the consolation was only a fabrication of his own thoughts. He couldn’t think, the fog was too much, he- 

A cold hand pressed to his back. 

Echo? A voice asked. Echo whined and cracked an eye open. Great, now another brother was sitting over him. He closed his eyes again, pressing back into his pillow. Just sleep, he internally screamed at himself. 

Echo? The voice asked again. It said something else, but Echo ignored it. It would go away soon enough, just like everything else. 

The cold hands lifted him, peeling him from his sheets, damp with sweat. He was pressed against a body, hands moving to brush away the hair plastered on his face. Echo nuzzled closer to the cold figure, feeling it’s grounding solidity. 

Echo didn’t want to trust it. He couldn’t, but he was too tired to keep fighting. He opened his eyes and found a silhouette staring down at him.

“Echo?” the figure whispered. 

Echo his mouth was too dry to answer. Maybe he dozed off again, or maybe he didn’t, but at some point, he asked, “Are you real?” 

The figure’s hands caressed his face. “Oh Echo, yes, I am real.” 

Echo sniffled into the figure’s chest. Hands continued running through his hair. Fingers skimmed over the scarred nodules where bolts were once embedded in his skull. Echo yanked his head away. Get off of me, he cursed at the scientist, prying their cold fingers away. 

“Relax, it’s just me, Crosshair. Shhhhh. Stop fighting, you’re gonna make things worse.” 

Details of Crosshair’s face materialize through the fog. “Cross?” he slurred. 

“Yes, it’s just me,” Crosshair assured, keeping his hands on Echo’s wrists. 

The touch grounded him, and Echo relaxed into Crosshair’s embrace. His head was still pounding, but Crosshair was cold and welcoming, a stark contrast to feverish skin. 

“Are you in pain?” Echo nodded pitifully, chest heaving. 

Crosshair knew it was bad because Echo rarely admitted to it, typically hiding his pain away unless one of the Bad Batch forced the truth out. He recalled Echo’s first heat, how he crammed himself in a cabinet because he didn’t trust them. The recent outburst only served as a reminder. Tech told them Echo might get worse before he gets better, but Crosshair just felt terrible either way. 

“Let’s get you more comfortable,” Crosshair suggested softly. He didn’t want to push Echo, but he was anxious to help him. He wasn’t the closest to Echo, but when he awoke to his cries, the protectiveness he felt for his brothers reflected onto Echo. 

Echo was still for a moment then he nodded so subtly, the only indicator was the change of pressure on Crosshair’s chest. 

Crosshair gently sat Echo up and shifted the bottom of his shirt. Echo didn’t give a reaction, so Crosshair continued to slowly remove the fabric. Crosshair brushed over his spine, and Echo lurched forward, whining. Echo had many scars from both the explosion and the experiments performed on him. Crosshair had yet to know of the off-limit spots, but he vowed to commit them to memory once he learned. 

“Okay, not there. I won’t touch that spot,” Crosshair promised him. “Come back to me.”

Echo’s stance seemed hesitant but he slowly returned to Crosshair. Crosshair removed the rest of the shirt without any issues, though he kept his hands well away from Echo’s skin. 

Crosshair dropped the shirt onto the floor and reached for the bottle of oils next to the bunk. He pressed Echo’s shoulder encouraging him to lay back down, but Echo was reluctant. Crosshair set the bottle down and took Echo into his hands, gently rubbing his arms and moving him towards the mattress. Echo sluggishly drifted forward. Crosshair set him gently on the sheets, removing the pillow so Echo was laying flat on his stomach.

He stroked Echo’s back, making sure he was alright before moving to his legs, keeping contact to let Echo know where he was. Crosshair started to remove his prosthetics but Echo nearly kicked him. 

“Don’t,” Echo whispered. 

Crosshair sighed. “Echo, it will be more comfortable if I take them off.”

Echo mewled in protest. Crosshair knew what this was about.

“Echo, no one is going to hurt you. I promise. You’re safe here.” Crosshair was making a lot of promises, quite unusual for him, however, when it came to Echo, Crosshair would do anything and everything in his power to keep him safe. Protectiveness and emotions tumbled in his guts, Crosshair not yet recognizing his feelings. 

Echo snuggled in closer to Crosshair’s thigh. Crosshair took that as a sign, and even though Echo still whimpered the whole way through as though he still didn’t want them removed, Crosshair slid off the prosthetics anyway. Crosshair didn’t give a damn about Echo’s consent at this particular moment, the bottom line was Echo didn’t need to suffer any more than he already was. Echo failed to take care of himself, so Crosshair would have to do it for him. 

Crosshair leaned the prosthetics against the bunk. “They are right here if you need them.” He told him. Echo nodded.

Crosshair’s hands drifted up Echo’s sides and landed on his right elbow, removing his cybernetic arm as well. Crosshair rubbed the oils on his hands and began rubbing out the tight muscles and scars stretched across Echo’s back and shoulders. Echo relaxed into his touch, pulling away and whimpering anytime Crosshair touched a sensitive spot. Each time Crosshair stopped, checking in with Echo who normally has a non-verbal reply, silently vowed to remember that spot, and continued. 

Echo’s chest hitched his breaths short audible gasps. Crosshair ran a thumb over his cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes. When he did, Crosshair’s heart broke. Echo looked so lost and small. His lower lip trembled and his body shook. Echo’s skin was still way too warm, Crosshair could feel the heat radiating off him as his hand hovered above Echo’s back. 

“What else can I do for you?” Crosshair asked almost rhetorically. 

Echo sobbed, “I just want to go home.” 

Home, back to a time where things were easier. When his biggest concern was if Domino Squad would pass their next test. Back to when Fives used to wrap him up tightly in blankets and hugs, repeating over and over how much he loves him. A small part of him wished to be back in cryo, even though he was enslaved, unwillingly divulging secret information that led to brothers’ deaths, at least he was oblivious to the reality of being alone. Of Five’s death, or rather the fact that he moved on. That all the brothers he once knew have marched away, waiting for him in the unknown. 

Crosshair laid down and gathered Echo in his arms. “I’m so sorry Echo. I wish I could do more for you.”

“K-keep talking, it- it helps,” Echo whispered hoarsely. 

Crosshair’s voice grounded him, overpowering the screams and whispers and explosions circling his head. His cold touch relieved the suffocation of the fear gnawing in his chest. Crosshair felt safe. Echo snuggled in closer as Crosshair gently muttered soothing phrases in his ear, lulling into a restful sleep. 

Crosshair didn’t intend on sleeping with Echo, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, but Echo looked so peaceful and Crosshair didn’t want to disturb him. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he’d never forget the feeling of waking up with Echo in his arms. So perfect and beautiful. A desire to press a kiss to Echo’s forehead bloomed in his consciousness. He knew he had to pull away.

He carefully untangled himself from Echo, but a hand grasped his shirt. 

“Stay,” Echo softly whispered. 

Crosshair settled back down. After all, how can he refuse such a gentle plea? Echo tucked his head beneath his chin, nuzzling the crook of his neck. 

Crosshair never felt so rested and content. 

  
  



End file.
